Blood Red
by Elendraug
Summary: Vincent decides that this is the end. (Happy birthday, Vincent. Het. Vincent Lucrecia.)


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Blood Red

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By StarWolf

10/13/2003 - Vincent's birthday!

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Title: Blood Red

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Author: StarWolf (elendraug@yahoo.com)

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Archive: Nope. Please don't put it anywhere that I didn't.

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Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

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Rating: PG-13

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Genre: Feel the angst!

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Disclaimer: I wish I owned it, but I don't. Vincent and everyone else are Square's (now Square-Enix, I guess).

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Summary: Vincent decides that this is the end.

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Authoress' Notes: *shakes head* The things I come up with during church. Does anyone _really_ pay attention, anyway? This is also my first FFVII fic, and I've barely played the game, so please excuse any mistakes this may have.

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Dedication: Happy birthday, Vincent.

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"I may be better off here dead

Running on empty once again

Too tired for tears I dread...

...I feel my body's lost control

My knees give way as I drift away

And it gets darker, darker..."

--Sugarcult, "I Changed My Name"

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O Death, relieve me from my endless sorrows. Take me far from this place, to a dark haven where I can be free. Save me from the torture I endure against my will, and rescue me from myself. In living I have failed countless times, and what I should have aided I have only destroyed beyond all salvation. In dying I shall restore the lives of others, for when I am gone, I will no longer be able to hurt them.

O Death, alleviate me of this anguish that I cannot escape. Lucrecia, my love, return to me when my suffering has ended. I pine for you, and I waste myself away as I await your arrival. Lucrecia, darling, did you not see how much I longed for you? Do you not realize, even now, that I would give my life again and again just to have your recognition? That I would sacrifice all that I've ever held sacred just to be able to hold you?

But dear, love, you cannot see me here, not in my gossamer cocoon of darkness and shadows. The absence of light soothes my broken soul, and I am at home in this place of torment. A Hell of my own creation, I am damned to live in undeath for all of this bleak eternity. I shall never reunite with you, my beautiful angel, because I have not accomplished what I was supposed to. The Fates have forsaken me in my despair, and left me to contemplate my infuriating mistakes forever. Years of sins that I cannot dare hope to atone for have swallowed me in their despondent embrace, and today I give in. Now I shall stop struggling, and allow myself to drown in all of the engulfing hurt that I deserve.

I never deserved you, Lucrecia, love. I was wrong, and confused, and lost, and you were a heavenly spirit that was destined to grace this planet with your magnificent prescence. I will never be granted permission to touch you, kiss you, hold you to me until I draw my last breath, because I have slaughtered any opportunities I may have had. Something much lovelier is waiting for you, Lucrecia, and I will not let myself mar your elegance with my own unholy soul.

It's almost funny, isn't it? A hideous demon, desperate to be safe, warm, and loved in the arms of a seraph. How I wish I could retreat to your serene place of rest, to spend an afterlife trying to repair the damage I have caused, be it intentional or indirect. But O, Lucrecia, my afterlife is condemned -- I am to be cast into the flames of eternal agony, with no chance to flee their wicked heat.

Cursed, damned, hated, condemned, demonic, sinful, lost, lonely, and ever grieving for you, Lucrecia.

I may have ruined everything else in this pitiful existence of mine, but one thing I shall not let go astray: tonight I shall die at my own hands, to prevent the chaos that I may instigate in the future. From this desolate world I have created I shall banish myself and the evil that perpetually plagues me.

Silver moonlight shimmers through the grimy panes of glass, glinting off the shiny metal claws that replaced my left arm. I lift my artificial limb, strike it against my right arm, and narrow my eyes, the color of which matches the liquid now pooling on my flesh. Sweet, hot blood, pouring forth from a wound that I have just gouged in myself. Slicing the sharp metal across my chest, the red flows smoothly, and the pain coats my vision with its heady trance. I cannot see clearly, cannot feel anything but this tearing, breaking, ripping sting. My heart is rent into tiny fragments of my essence, and tears leak from my irritated eyes. It hurts me so, but is nothing compared to the emotional distress I have inflicted upon myself. Collapsing to the floor in a quickly-expanding puddle of my own blood, it wets my hair until the ebony strands are too matted and tangled within each other to be separated. But what does it matter now? My life is ending.

I feel the strength I once possessed drain away from me with each drop of crimson fluid that hits the concrete. O Lucrecia, can you see me now? From your perch in Heaven, are you watching the hopeless demon, who has admired you for so many years, slip away into the cold, cruel, dismal abyss of nothingness that lies in store for him? I still love you, Lucrecia. I always have.

Forgive me.


End file.
